equally matched, but in length the lizard had the advantage by at least
two inches. The adder was slightly the bulkier. At times the lizard, full
of pluck, would scamper away a few inches, dragging the adder, or would
claw the sand into tiny, ineffectual furrows in vain efforts. The adder
was never able to shake the lizard; it merely maintained its grip. All
the wit and sprightliness of the fight was on the part of the lizard,
who lashed its foe with its pliant tail, and endeavoured so to swerve
as to bite. Both were light weights. One was all dash and sportive
agileness; the other played a dull waiting game with admirable finesse.

In spite of the greater activity and muscular power of the lizard, the
combat seemed unfair, for in the cunning persistency of the frail but
determined little snake there was something uncanny and nerve-shaking.
For fully ten minutes the fight continued. The violent antics of the
lizard became less and less frequent. Obviously the tactics of the snake
were wearing it down. Though the lizard seemed to have lost none of its
spirit, the flesh was becoming weak. While it panted, its eyes twinkled
with inane ferocity, and the snake, with that peculiar fearsome, gliding
movement--neither wriggle nor squirm--typical of the species, slowly edged
its victim under the shadow of a tussock. There both reposed, the snake
calm in craft and design, the lizard waiting for the one chance of its
life. Swallowing the lizard under any circumstances seemed an impossible
feat. To begin the act in the middle of the body was absolutely beyond
accomplishment. There would come a time when the death-adder must release
its hold to re-seize its prey by the head or tail, and if the soul of the
lizard could possess itself in patience until that moment, and take
advantage of it, all might be well.

Now, it seemed to me, the only witness to this fateful fray, that both
parties to it knew that the crisis had yet to come. The lizard reserved